It just FEELS like forever.
Kealoha and I had a nice Christmas. Santa came a week early for the kiddos, and then on Christmas Eve we had my family over for turducken, roasted redskin potatoes, crazy good broccoli with pine nuts, homemade rolls, and enough dips and desserts to give you a heart attack. Thankfully, no one actually had a heart attack.
I could go on and on about the day, but it’s mostly boring warm-and-fuzzy stuff.
It also reminded me of Christmas two years ago. Just two years ago, I was flat on my back on the couch with a broken foot in a bright green cast and suspended on a stack of pillows. I couldn’t have the kids over for Christmas, because I couldn’t take care of them (having just broken my foot the week before). I was lonely, nearly broke, and literally broken. You’ve heard this story before. The point is…how even in the darkest times, the times when things have felt the most permanent, change still happens. That Christmas day, I’d never felt so alone. I felt like I’d be like that forever. I’d be poor, unloved, unwanted, and disabled. It felt like forever, like I’d finally reached my future.
And then my niece came and took me to see Sherlock Holmes (the first one). It was a gift, really, to know that someone loved and cared about me. My mom came over to help me with food and get around. After Christmas, I could take care of my kids again. I learned how to navigate the ice on crutches and still managed to get to work and take the kids to school and grocery shop. I earned more money. I spent a lot of time with friends and on my own. I dated.
I didn’t settle. I tried to once or twice, but I knew that wouldn’t work. I wanted a future that was good and wholesome, one in which I would be loved and supported. I tried hard to believe it was possible.
I’m saying all of this because I know some of you who read my blog are in dark places too. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe there’s little money. Maybe you feel like you’re in your own kind of Forever, and your spirit is broken.
It may feel like Forever, but it’s not. Remember, broken bones do heal. It just takes time.
Hang in there. Hang on.
If there’s anything that’s proof that change can happen and can happen for the better, look at my story. There isn’t anything extraordinary about me. I’m a regular woman, maybe a bit quirky. I’m not famous. I live a quiet life, but I believed enough in myself to hang on. Someday I believed just enough to hang on to the next day…but that was enough. And even when I didn’t believe, things still changed. Gradually. For the better.
Worlds can change in two years. Lives can be transformed. I didn’t wait for the change to happen though, I prepared myself to be ready for it. I got stronger. I worked hard.
I’m not saying that ‘anything is possible if you just believe’. You don’t have to believe. Change will happen anyway. Just open yourself to the possibility that the change that is waiting for you is a GOOD one. That’s the possibility I tried to believe in (even when I didn’t).
Today Kealoha and I are taking a day trip to Ann Arbor to go to Zingerman’s Deli and Trader Joe’s. We’ll go together and be dorky and talk about food and kids. It’ll be fun. Safe. Comfortable. And about a million miles from where I was two years ago.
On that note, then, my wish for you:
May you have a New Year with unexpected surprises and delight and joy in the small things, and may change come to you and make you stronger and happier.
Phew.
That was a heavy blog.
Next time I’ll talk about my favorite kind of cheese, or maybe on why shows like American Idol and XFactor rarely create real stars. You know, deep stuff like that.
Mimosas and Morals -- Mini-Vacay Part Two
Day two of my mini-vacay, and the lessons I learned.
Saturday morning of my mini-vacay started with waking up slowly next to Biff. I thought, “Hmmm. It’s awfully nice waking up next to him,” but he couldn’t stay for breakfast. He had to meet his dad in the morning. My morning was spent, then, slowly on my own. I went for a run in the mist and fog. It was only my second time running on my foot. I felt heavy. My body moved in ways I didn’t like. It’s the extra 7 pounds I put on since breaking my foot. If I don’t suck in, it looks like I could be pregnant. Bluh. The run, though, was lovely. I toured the town and houses, imagined getting a cottage someday. Half an hour later, I was back at the B&B in the shower. Then it was breakfast on my own. I grabbed a paper and sat at my own table. I ate berries with cream. I liked the quiet. I actually need solace now and again so I just savored my mimosa and homemade pecan roll.
An hour or so later, Biff came back and met me at the coffee shop where I was working on the next book. (It’s a memoir. I know. I know. But it is.)
We walked the town. Went shopping. I bought a little picture of a cottage surrounded by red flowers. We ate lunch. We took naps. We ate dinner. And at dinner, I had all these thoughts that were coursing through me and they sort of went like this:
What am I doing here with Biff? We’re so different. He hates his job. I love mine. I have kids, he doesn’t. He smokes and likes American food. I run and have a sick fascination with lentils. He’s skinny; I’m a little tubby right now. He doesn’t want to be married. I do.
Wait a minute! WHAT?
I don’t know how I started the conversation but I said something like “We’re so different. Do you really think this is working?”
He looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I don’t know, you said you never wanted to be married and I have to think about the kids. I mean, if you’re my boyfriend, then I should introduce you to the kids, but what does that mean? I don’t want them to start to count on you.”
And then he said something about the truth was that if he were called on a movie in Prague or New York he’d go. That the truth was that he was a ‘live in the moment’ guy, but he didn’t say he NEVER wanted to get married.
I nodded. What else do you do? “Okay,” I said.
“I’d really like to meet your kids. I’m nervous about it, but I’d like to.”
“I know,” I said. “But you can’t meet them yet.”
The thing is, I’m a mom. And I can’t risk introducing them to someone who lives only in the moment. That’s my truth. And it’s so hard that I can’t just do what I want and live in the moment and not think about tomorrow and tomorrow, but that’s because I’m a parent. And being a parent and being single means there’s a real possibility I’ll spend the majority of my adult life alone.
There was deep awkwardness after the conversation and though we didn’t decide anything, something in me has shifted and shut down. I have let’s say ‘trust issues’ and need very tender handling. The subtext of the conversation, what I heard was “I’m having a great time with you, Tanya, but when something better comes along, I’m out of here.”
It’s okay. It’s sad. But it’s okay. We walked out of the restaurant. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yep,” I said, and smiled.
By 8PM we were sitting in our cramped little room, Biff typing on the computer, me trying not to fall asleep when I blurted the truth I’d been struggling with for most of the day. It had to be said. Best to say it in one breath. “Biff, I’m bored.” I flinched as I waited for him to go on and on about a waste of money and only boring people are boring (like my ex used to do.) Instead he said, “Thank god. I’ve been bored most of the day.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, let’s go home then.”
By 8:30 we were in the car. By 9 we were at home. By 9:30 we were in my basement watching Battlestar Galactica. The next morning, we did super fun stuff like go to Lowe’s and lawn work. Biff helped. I loved it. I really did.
So what’s the moral of this mini-vacay? There is a moral, or at least some lesson I learned. I learned that I am not a good fit for a Bed and Breakfast. I want more attention from my vacation. I want a big tub with jets and room service. I want a workout room. So now I know.
But I also learned something bigger. I want to be married again. I didn’t know that I did until this weekend, but the truth is, I do. Talking to Biff just crystallized it. The sad thing is, I don’t know what that means for me now. I have an image of my future husband and he’s crazy about me and we understand each other and we have passion. And he’s a hard worker and he wants to be not only a good friend to me and the kids, but he also wants to be a good role model. He likes my cooking. He doesn’t mind when I don’t wear makeup and I put on my crazy plastic boots to feed the birds or water a plant I neglected for a month. Sometimes he’ll grab me and kiss me just so that I don’t forget that even though I’m his wife and a mom, at the heart of it, I’m also a woman.
This is a surprise to me. I thought I’d given up on that idea of love and marriage, but I haven’t…it’s just changed form within me. I no longer feel like I have to be in a relationship just to be in one. And I know that the relationship I want is waiting for me. It’s just not the time yet. So for now, I’ll simply enjoy my life as it is. And avoid B&B’s at all cost. Literally. They’re expensive.
Something Fragile and Beautiful
Usually, I try to look at life lightly…to interpret the bad things that happen with a humorous slant. Every once in a while, though, it gets a little hard to be funny. This is how I felt this week. The idea that my life right now is just not funny. There are, certainly, funny elements, but mostly right now it’s twinged with pain.
Usually, I try to look at life lightly…to interpret the bad things that happen with a humorous slant. Every once in a while, though, it gets a little hard to be funny. This is how I felt this week. The idea that my life right now is just not funny. There are, certainly, funny elements, but mostly right now it’s twinged with pain.
So on Wednesday while I was on break from recording, I sank into my chair, closed the door to the booth and had a good old-fashioned cry. I cried because everything right now takes so much energy. I cried because when my kids call for me to pick them up, I can’t do it. I cried because my foot hurts, because it’s broken, because I’m still humiliated that my ex’s fiancée took me to the emergency room and I had no choice but to accept her kindness. I cried because my arms shake from using crutches, because there’s snow and ice everywhere and I’m terrified of slipping. I cried because everywhere I go, people offer to help me and I accept their help. I can’t manage all the doors on my own; I can’t carry anything to my car. Right now, my life is a series of “I can’t”s and it is, at the heart of it, very sad.
On top of that, it’s the holidays. I offered to let my ex take the kids Christmas eve and day because another thing I can’t do is get presents ready for them on my own.
Everything will work out. I have friends and family helping me. There are times though, when I just feel like I’ve had enough struggle. Of course, good things have happened too: my book getting published, my narration gigs, my job at Kendall, my radio plays. But when you’re feeling blue, you just feel it.
I’m trying to look for the hidden purpose behind this. What’s the message I’m not getting? One possibility: for most of my life, I’ve felt invisible. Never pretty enough or smart enough or talented enough. In my marriage, I was never seen as a full person. If writers have a theme, then mine is one of longing to be seen.
Right now, everywhere I go people see me. They open doors for me. They take time to slow down and help me to my car. They ask me questions: “How are you managing?” “I see your car seats. How old are your kids?” “What happened to you?” This too has made me cry. The irony is it’s not because it makes me sad. It’s that in all of this, I am profoundly amazed by the kindness of strangers: the time they take to see me struggling and offer to help.
I think I’ll emerge from this a more empathetic person. A more humbled person. A person grateful for the smallest of things, like being able to pick up your own child and hold them to your heart. It’s not a funny moment in my life, but, eventually, maybe I’ll see it as something fragile and beautiful.
An Exercise in Humility or Humiliation?
I enumerate the awkward, funny, painful experiences with my foot..
So far this whole broken foot fiasco has either been an exercise in humility or humiliation, maybe equal parts of both. I’ve had wonderful people offering to help and I’ve had horribly sobering moments where I sort of float outside myself and think “Aw, who’s that sad sap crawling up those stairs?”
Some random moments:
WORK
River City called me in to do one of my recurring voice-overs. I’m the Phone Lady for a major local health care group, so you can blame me when you hear prompts like “Thank you for calling. To speak with an operator, please hold for 27 minutes or so while standing on one leg, then maybe we’ll let you through” OR “If you are bleeding profusely, please hang up and dial 911.” Okay. Tangent.
So when they called me, I thought “Sure, I can handle this. This is a five minute gig.” I’d forgotten about the stairs. And the slope in their driveway. I got in the car, harder than it sounds since my driveway is an obstacle course of slush and ice, pulled my crutches in, drove, and was faced with a slope of sheer ice. I slipped my way up, rang buzzer and faced The Stairs. Granted, these stairs are not a big deal if you walk like a normal person. If you’re on crutches for the first time in your life, they are The Steep Stairs of Death. I stood there, looking at them, and thought “Fuck it”…and I crawled. That’s right. On my hands and knees.
Then there was another set of stairs leading to the basement studio. No big deal, I thought, I’ll just scoot down on my butt. Only there was a leak in the ceiling and I sat down on wet carpet so by the time I got down the stairs, not only was I butt crawling, but now looked as if I couldn’t hold my bladder.
Thank god everyone there has known me forever. My foot is broken, but my bladder works just fine.
DATING
I thought I was ready for this. Especially with my ex remarrying I feel like I ought to at least be dating. I decided to meet someone I’ve been writing to for a while online, and damnation, I was bound and determined. Plus I had a goal with my writers’ group to go out on a date with a man who wasn’t gay. (Though I really wish I could date gay men.) I limped my way to the restaurant and had a fine time talking, but at the same time, I was acutely aware of how I must smack of just a little bit pathetic. I managed to not wear stretchy pants, so that was a bonus.
I had these flashes in my mind of what sex would be like with a cast. I can’t take a bath so shaving is out. Imagine a heated moment and I lose my balance and fall over onto the floor. Or I’m trying to be sexy while I unzip my pants and then can’t get them off because they’re stuck on my cast. And then…naked bodies…imagine the awkwardness of a solid, rock hard CAST in the way. Not to mention my Sasquatch legs.
I’m thinking dating is out for a while.
HUMILIATION #459
The most recent humiliation with my ex. On the phone. Presented in dialogue.
ME: Hi, P. I’m calling because my foot is really broken. Like seriously and I need some help with the kids.
P: Okay. Well, I have them this weekend so that should help.
ME: Yes, but what I mean is…
P: Me and Miss R. are going to decorate the tree. Just want you to know in case they talk about that.
ME: Okay, but what I was going to say…
P: She was pretty upset about you having all the Christmas decorations since somehow in her split she didn’t get the Christmas decorations from her ex. But I told her it would be fine. We’d just give the kids some money and they can each buy an ornament and we’ll hang them all together and it will be a wonderful bonding experience for our family.
ME: (silence)
P: So. What are you planning on doing with the kids?
ME: Oh, you know, I have a broken foot and can’t take care of them and I’m single and can’t offer them any family bonding so I thought, I don’t know, that they’d watch TV while I eat chocolate bonbons on the couch and cry my heart out. Thanks for asking.
END SCENE
That dialogue is true, except for the last part. The last part I just thought but wanted to say. He doesn’t even realize how his words affect me.
Blast.
THE FUTURE